


How Blue Was My Monitor

by Tiffany_Park



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-10
Updated: 2000-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiffany_Park/pseuds/Tiffany_Park
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This bit of lunacy was inspired by Challenge #23 on the Heliopolis web site, submitted by Nepthys: "This challenge has to involve Daniel overloading whole base computer system by entering one of his long winded reports, and the whole base shuts down. This challenge ALSO has to involve Daniel and Jack whumping, and Bill Gates. Mwha ha ha ha!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Blue Was My Monitor

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: How Blue Was My Monitor  
> AUTHOR: Tiffany Park  
> CATEGORY: Humor, Challenge Response  
> SPOILERS: None  
> SEASON: Doesn't really matter.  
> RATING: PG-13  
> CONTENT WARNINGS: Mild language, general Microsoft bashing. Unix weenies may also be offended. Hardware jocks will be appalled.  
> SUMMARY: This bit of lunacy was inspired by Challenge #23 on the Heliopolis web site, submitted by Nepthys: "This challenge has to involve Daniel overloading whole base computer system by entering one of his long winded reports, and the whole base shuts down. This challenge ALSO has to involve Daniel and Jack whumping, and Bill Gates. Mwha ha ha ha!"  
> STATUS: Completed  
> ARCHIVE: Heliopolis okay, any others (yeah, right) please ask.  
> DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. Microsoft, NT, and Bill Gates belong to, well, Bill Gates. IRIX and Silicon Graphics are trademarks of Silicon Graphics, Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

**How Blue Was My Monitor  
**

 **by  
**

 **Tiffany Park**

  


The report was nearly complete, and it was a masterpiece. All those long days and late nights, consisting of endless hours before the microphone, had finally paid off. Daniel Jackson drew a deep breath and prayed that his voice would hold out for just a few minutes more. "And so, in conclusion--"

"You about done there, Daniel?"

"Yeah, Sam, just about." Daniel ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at his office doorway. Samantha Carter stood silhouetted there, tapping a clipboard impatiently.

"Good. Remember, we've got that briefing in ten minutes."

"Give me a sec. I'm almost to a stopping point." Daniel glared at the computer monitor and shoved his glasses a little higher up on his nose. Predictably, the speech recognition software had picked up the conversation and, just as predictably, garbled it. Daniel sighed. When it came to recording long reports, the new software package was the greatest thing since sliced bread, but it needed a fair amount of training to accurately record spoken words. This particular program had never been trained to understand Carter's speech. He grumbled a little to himself, and started to delete the incoherent text.

Without warning, Daniel's report, all five hundred and eighty-seven pages of it, vanished, and the screen turned bright blue. White lettering appeared, displaying the cryptic message, "A FATAL EXCEPTION 0A HAS OCCURRED AT 0E22:A190D9CB." Immediately following this were the phrases, "INVALID TASK STATE SEGMENT FAULT," and "STACK DUMP." Incomprehensible columns of numbers and letters scrolled down the screen. Curiously, none of the letters were greater than 'F.'

"Oh, no," Daniel groaned. "My report--" He pressed a few keys and jiggled the mouse, but nothing happened. The screen remained stubbornly blue. "What on earth is the matter with this thing?"

Carter frowned at his distressed tone. She walked over and stared down at the screen. "Holy Hannah," she gasped, clutching the back of his chair. "That's the Blue Screen of Death!"

"The what?"

"The Blue Screen of Death. You've crashed the NT server!"

Daniel took in the appalled expression on her face and swallowed hard, then forced himself to ask, "Is that bad?"

In response to his query, the red emergency lights started flashing, accompanied by the deafening howl of the base sirens. Carter grimaced, plugged her ears, and shouted, "Does that answer your question?"

"Oh, I think so."

Carter grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the office. "Come on. We'd better find out how bad the damage is."

The pair jogged down the hallway. They came to a halt at the entrance to the Stargate control room and gaped at the chaos within.

Every monitor in the room was displaying the Blue Screen of Death. Technicians and other support staff scurried back and forth, working frantically, if somewhat futilely, at the various consoles and stations. A digital clock on the wall was counting minutes and seconds backwards, towards zero. The red numbers glowed ominously.

"Oh, God." Daniel gazed furtively around the room. "Sam, please don't tell them this is my fault," he pleaded. "They'll kill me." Carter gave him a wild-eyed look but said nothing. She took his arm again and pulled him into the control room.

General Hammond, Colonel O'Neill, Teal'c, and Major Ferretti were gathered around Sergeant Harriman's station. The three Air Force officers were staring over Harriman's shoulder like a flock of starving vultures. Teal'c simply looked bewildered. Carter and Daniel surreptitiously joined the small group.

"What do you mean, the self-destruct countdown has activated?" General Hammond yelled. "There's nothing wrong! Turn the damn thing off."

Harriman pounded desperately at his unresponsive keyboard. "I'm sorry, sir. Apparently, the clock started running when NT crashed. There's no way to shut it down without the computer." He gave up on the computer and swiveled his chair around to face the assembled group. "We've got twenty seven minutes left, General."

"Damn." Hammond rubbed his forehead. "Any chance we can evacuate?"

"Negative," O'Neill replied. "I've already checked. All the exits were automatically sealed. A fly couldn't get in or out of here right now."

"So our best option is to try to get the computer back up."

"That would be good. Is anyone working on that idea?" O'Neill asked with a deliberate air of false innocence.

Hammond glared at him and opened his mouth, but a renewed burst of discordant mechanical shrieking interrupted the rebuke. "Will someone _please_ kill those damn sirens!" he shouted.

Major Ferretti obligingly got up on a chair and disconnected the wires to the speakers.

"You do realize that was a flagrant safety violation, don't you?" O'Neill commented to him as he jumped down off the chair.

Ferretti snorted, "That's pretty good, coming from you. Sir."

O'Neill shrugged and stalked over to a computer monitor. He glared at the blue doom it steadfastly displayed. "And here I thought this new system was supposed to improve efficiency, not _kill_ it. Literally." When no one paid any attention to him, he paced back and forth across the control room, muttering, "We haven't even had this goddamn system for a month yet, and it's already broken. If I ever get my hands on any of those Microsoft goons..."

"Colonel, will you quit pouncing all over the room?" Hammond snapped. "You're making me dizzy with all that running back and forth."

O'Neill cast him a hostile look, which the general chose to ignore. The pacing ceased. O'Neill folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the spiral staircase leading to the embarkation room. However, the quiet litany of invective, directed at Bill Gates as well as everyone and anyone who had ever worked for Microsoft, continued unabated. A preoccupied technician hustled by, and O'Neill stepped aside to avoid being run over. He moved around the rail and stared down the stairs, considering heading down to the embarkation room, where he'd at least be in no danger of getting knocked over by wayward techs.

He glanced up when Daniel joined him. "Hey, Jack," Daniel said, looking uncharacteristically subdued. "What happens now?"

O'Neill shrugged. "Now we wait. And pray, I suppose."

"That bad?"

"Guess so. Nobody seems to know how to fix it."

Two more technicians dashed by, totally oblivious to everything except their clipboards. One of them sideswiped Daniel in his haste to get to his destination.

"Hey! Watch it!" Daniel yelped. He stumbled back a few steps and bumped into O'Neill.

The small nudge was just enough to tip O'Neill back over the stairs. He cursed and windmilled his arms in a frantic attempt to regain his balance, teetering on the edge of that first step for one very long moment. Then, with a complete lack of grace, he lost his battle with gravity and toppled over, down into the stairwell.

Daniel leaned over the railing and shouted, "Jack!"

O'Neill barely registered the shout, as he was fully occupied with tumbling, head over heels, down the stairs. He hit the floor hard, landing face down in an undignified sprawl. Stars danced before his eyes, accompanied by an unpleasantly loud ringing in his ears. That had definitely been a bad fall. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back. Light stabbed his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. His head hurt.

There was a clattering sound nearby, footsteps on the staircase. Someone asked, sounding rather anxious, "Jack? Are you all right?"

O'Neill opened his eyes, blinked a few times in a vain attempt to clear his vision, then blearily focused on the man bending over him. His eyes widened and he stared up in horror, taking in the glasses, that geeky haircut, the imposing, terrifying aura of complete and utter dweebness... Survival instinct mingled with rage and a heady rush of adrenaline. "This is all your fault!" he shouted, grabbing the ultimate nerd by the throat and shaking him mercilessly. "You and your power complex! You just couldn't be satisfied with your empire in the commercial and home markets, could you? Just had to inflict your crap on the defense business, too, didn't you? And now look where we are!"

"Jack, stop--" The choked voice was strangely familiar. O'Neill blinked and loosened his grip slightly.

The image of the uber-geek wavered and dissolved, giving way to the face of a more familiar, much friendlier, and infinitely safer variety of dweeb.

"Daniel?" O'Neill dropped his hands, looking bewildered and horrified all at once. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I thought..."

"You thought what?" Daniel rasped, rubbing his throat.

"I really must have hit my head pretty hard," O'Neill confessed in embarrassment. "For a minute there, I thought you were Bill Gates."

Startled, Daniel gaped at him and said, "Oh. Guess I really can't blame you for getting a little antagonistic, then. Under the circumstances and all."

O'Neill held his head in his hands. "Yeah, right."

More footsteps clattered down the metal staircase. Carter and Teal'c carefully stepped around the two men when they reached the floor. Carter dropped to her knees beside O'Neill and asked, "Colonel, what's going on? Are you all right?"

"No, he's not all right!" Daniel said quickly, before O'Neill could respond. "He hit his head or something."

"What happened to you?" Carter asked, taking in Daniel's disheveled appearance and the way he kept rubbing his throat.

"Jack thought I was Bill Gates and tried to throttle me."

"Really?" Carter scrutinized Daniel closely. "Hmmm..."

"Sam!"

"Who is Bill Gates?" Teal'c asked.

"Trust me, Teal'c," O'Neill replied wearily, "you don't wanna know."

"That's quite a bump you've got on your forehead, Colonel," Carter said. She touched the bruise gently.

O'Neill jerked his head away. "Hey! Take it easy, Carter."

"Okay, maybe we should get you to the infirmary, sir. Especially if you've been hallucinating. And violent."

"I have not been hallucinating, and I am not violent!" O'Neill shouted, shaking a fist at Carter.

"The whole Bill Gates thing?" Daniel reminded him with a snort. "Remember that? Amnesia's not a very good sign, you know."

"Look, that was just a momentary lapse. I'm much better, now."

"Of course, sir," Carter said, clearly humoring him.

"Really," O'Neill insisted.

"Yes, Colonel," Carter sighed. Turning to Daniel, she eyed the reddish marks on his throat. "Maybe you ought to get checked out, too, Daniel."

"What? I'm fine, Sam. Honest."

She took Daniel's arm and helped him to his feet. "Now, don't be difficult, like the colonel, here. Just come along and don't argue with me."

"I will take O'Neill to the infirmary," Teal'c said, deadpan as usual. He bent down and lifted O'Neill in his arms. Needless to say, the colonel was not terribly pleased with this turn of events.

"Dammit, Teal'c, put me down!" O'Neill howled. "I'm _not_ going to the infirmary."

Teal'c frowned. "But you hit your head and confused Daniel Jackson with someone named Bill Gates. It is obvious that you are not well."

"Well, actually, that's an understandable mistake," Carter said with a grin, ignoring Daniel's indignant squawk. "But I still think Janet ought to take a look at you, sir. That was a pretty bad fall."

O'Neill groaned, "Oh, for crying out loud. The base is gonna blow up in twenty minutes, and you want me to go to the infirmary?"

"Um, I suppose he has a point," Daniel said.

Carter nodded. "Put him down, Teal'c."

"Very well." Teal'c set O'Neill back on his feet. O'Neill glared at him for a few seconds, then headed for the stairs. The other three looked at one another, shrugged, and followed him.

The quartet climbed back up to the control room, just in time to hear Sergeant Harriman report, "Data Processing says they're working the problem, sir. They'll be rebooting the server shortly."

Hammond replied, "It's about time."

Every pair of eyes in the control room fastened on Harriman's monitor and watched expectantly.

The Blue Screen of Death vanished; the NT boot screen appeared in its place. Various cryptic statements and numbers scrolled down the display. Everyone in the control room held their breath.

The ironically prophetic phrase, "FATAL ERROR," flashed on the display, followed by a few more indecipherable sequences of words and numbers. The monitor went blank for a brief moment, then the Blue Screen of Death reappeared.

General Hammond slammed a fist into the wall and yelled, "Gawdammit! Get that DP Manager in here. Now!"

"Yessir!" Sergeant Harriman reached for the phone.

A few minutes later, a harried looking lieutenant burst through the doors. He caught sight of General Hammond and immediately came to attention. "Sir! Lieutenant Jones, reporting as ordered. Sir!"

Hammond scowled at him. "Lieutenant Jones. Would you please explain to me why the hell we don't have a working computer?"

"As far as we can tell, sir, the new speech recognition software crashed the system and corrupted the NT Registry." Observing the thundercloud forming on Hammond's face, Jones swallowed nervously and tried to explain, "Uh, that's something that holds system settings, sir. NT won't work without it. Anyway, we think we've got the Registry repaired, but we still need to get it booted, and, um..."

"And what? What's the hold up?"

"Ah, it's kind of, well, finicky. Sir. And we keep getting these weird Novell errors..."

"If it's so damned hard to get running, then why on God's little green Earth are we using it?"

"Sir, the NT architecture was mandated so we could standardize our software. Virtually everything is now off-the-shelf. Our maintenance costs should start going down any day now, just as soon as Microsoft issues the latest patches. We've been able to eliminate most software support positions already, so--"

"You've eliminated support staff? Who's responsible for this?" Hammond all but shouted. A vein started pulsing at his temple.

Jones swallowed again and eyed the exit longingly. "Congress, sir. They're real interested in standardization and offloading non-essential work to third party vendors. There were several operating systems available that fit the criteria, but for a variety of reasons, NT was selected as the best choice."

"One of those reasons wouldn't happen to be a few too many senators with Microsoft stock, would it?" O'Neill asked snidely.

"I hardly think that was a factor, sir," Jones protested.

"Yeah, right. And I've got a peachy deal for ya on some swampland in Florida."

Daniel interrupted, "This is all well and good, but shouldn't we have a backup system or something?"

Jones shrugged helplessly. "Um, well, that's due to budget cuts, I'm afraid. Software licenses can get kind of pricey, you know. We could only afford one NT server. But it's a big one," he added defensively.

"Too bad NT doesn't scale worth a damn," someone from the back said in a stage whisper.

Impatient with the unproductive exchange, Hammond rounded on Jones and snarled, "Do you have anyone who can fix this, Lieutenant? Before we all get blown to kingdom come?"

"Yes, sir. We still have someone on staff to handle this sort of problem. He's very good, sir."

"I want to talk to him. Right now."

Jones started to sweat. "Um, I should warn you, sir, he's a civilian, and--"

Hammond cut him off, "Just get him up here. On the double!"

"Yes, sir." Jones picked up a phone and spoke into it softly.

The next several minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence, then a laconic voice drawled, "Hey, Lieutenant dude, you rang?"

Everyone turned and stared at the door, taking in this latest apparition, who ambled into the room and looked around curiously.

The man was quite a sight. His long hair was streaked with gray and pulled back into a ponytail. Wire framed glasses teetered unsteadily on his nose. He was dressed in a washed-out tee-shirt that proclaimed, "Van Halen World Tour 1984," scruffy jeans, and mountain climbing boots. The paraphernalia that hung from his belt included two pagers, a cell phone, several rolls of wire, and a calculator.

"This is Dwayne," Jones said by way of introduction. "He's our resident computer guru. Dwayne, this is General Hammond."

Dwayne waved. "Hey, General dude."

Hammond's eyebrows rose, practically climbing over the top of his bald head. He looked both constipated and ready to commit murder, but only said, "Hello, Dwayne."

"Um, Dwayne doesn't get out much. Sir." Jones wisely chose to forgo any further introductions.

"Yeah, man," Dwayne said. "I usually sit in this really dark cubical in the sub-sub-sub-basement."

"Not now, Dwayne." Jones closed his eyes and sighed.

"Okay, man."

"Dwayne," Hammond said forcefully to get the man's attention. "In case it's escaped your notice, we've got a serious problem here. Now, is there any way you can fix NT and get it back up before our situation _gets any worse_?"

Dwayne blinked, startled by the general's vehemence. "Man, I was working on it, but this whole thing is so bogus. I told those Congress dudes not to go with NT. Was a disaster waiting to happen." He shook his head in disgust. "Nothing like doing Apophis's work for him. Man, sometimes I think Bill Gates is a Goa'uld."

Carter raised her brows and said thoughtfully, "You know, that would certainly explain an awful lot."

"This doesn't solve our problem," O'Neill reminded them. "Hello? Does anyone remember that we can't turn off the self-destruct without the computer?"

"Well, NT's hosed, dudes, but we haven't gotten around to surplussing the old IRIX servers yet. You want me to hook 'em back up?" Dwayne asked.

Everyone stared blankly at him. General Hammond asked, very quietly, "What IRIX servers?"

"You know, the old system we had here. From last month. The Silicon Graphics stuff."

"You can get that working?"

"Sure, man, no problem. Just gotta reconnect a few cables here and there, and get the boxes some righteous juice. We haven't even ripped out the old wiring yet."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Hammond exploded. "Do it, man!"

"Way cool. Give me half an hour, General dude." Dwayne practically skipped out of the control room.

"We don't have half an hour!" Hammond yelled after him.

"I'll make sure he knows that, sir," Jones said as he slunk out the door.

There was a long moment of stunned silence, broken only when Daniel nervously ventured, "Think he can do it in time?"

"Oh, I wouldn't get my hopes up, if I were you," O'Neill said discouragingly. "As our good buddy Dwayne might say, this is a major bummer."

"Personally," Carter added, "I'd say it blows, but whatever works for you, sir."

The control room monitors flickered. The Blue Screen of Death vanished again, this time replaced by the phrase, "NO SIGNAL DETECTED," in flashing block letters.

"Well, I suppose that's something," Hammond commented.

"Ah, no, not really, sir," Carter said. "All that means is that the NT server's been powered down or disconnected. There's nothing sending any signals to the monitors."

"Three minutes," Harriman announced, staring at the timer display.

"Shit," Ferretti muttered.

The clock continued its countdown, second by inexorable second. The digital numbers glowed a merciless red.

"One minute left," Harriman said.

"Oh, put a sock in it, will ya?" O'Neill said irritably.

Teal'c pointedly looked from O'Neill to Sergeant Harriman, then back to O'Neill, and opened his mouth.

Anticipating the inevitable query, O'Neill held up a hand and said resignedly, "It's just an expression, Teal'c."

"I see," Teal'c replied skeptically. The dubious look on his face proclaimed just the opposite.

O'Neill sighed.

Daniel gnawed the back of his index finger. Ferretti cracked his knuckles.

"Five seconds," Harriman couldn't resist saying.

"We can see that damned clock, you know," O'Neill snarled.

Carter folded her arms and looked annoyed. "This is a pretty rotten way to spend our last moments on Earth."

"What, you want a group hug or something?"

"It would certainly be better than arguing."

"Oh, for crying out loud--"

Ignoring the bickering, Daniel leaned forward and peered at the clock. It had passed zero and was now displaying negative values. "Um, has anyone noticed that the deadline's passed, and we're all still alive?"

Silence reigned for a few moments. The clock kept ticking.

When the clock passed minus two minutes, Carter finally asked, "Uh, not that I'm complaining or anything, but why didn't the self-destruct work?"

"Well, why don't we just call ol' Dwayne and find out," O'Neill remarked.

Hammond was way ahead of him, already holding the phone to his ear and listening quietly. "I see," he said, in a dead flat voice that boded no good for anyone. He hung up the phone and faced the small group. "It seems that the self-destruct mechanism was controlled by the NT server. When the computer went down, there was no way for the detonation to be triggered. Under normal circumstances, I'd complain about the asinine design, however, in this case..." He paused and grimaced, then added in a long-suffering tone, "Dwayne says he can fix that for us if we want."

"Gee, what a good idea," O'Neill drawled. He gazed upwards beseechingly. "God save us from geeks."

"I don't understand," Carter said. "Why was the detonator tied in to NT?"

"It seems that the DP folks didn't quite have the budget to finish the new installation, so they took a few shortcuts," Hammond informed her. "The clock was on an independent circuit, and was initiated by the computer right before it went down. Those morons Congress hired never tied it directly to the self-destruct mechanism."

"And thank God for that," Daniel said fervently.

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Okay, let me get this straight. The system crash triggered that clock," he waved at hand at the digital display, "to start a countdown, but the detonator requires a live connection to the computer?" The colonel shook his head, half in amusement, half in despair. "Gotta love those lowest bidders."

"Just be glad they did a shoddy job, Colonel," Hammond chastised him. "It's the reason you're still alive."

Every monitor in the control room flickered. The IRIX boot sequence scrolled down each screen.

"Looks like we're coming back to life," O'Neill remarked. "Better late than never, I suppose."

The boot screen vanished, to be replaced by the SGC logo. It was displayed for a few moments, then the Stargate operational systems reappeared on every monitor in the control room.

Harriman took his seat and ran through a few commands. Pleased with what he found, he reported, "All systems green, General Hammond."

"That means it's working again," O'Neill said to Ferretti, who snickered softly. Carter frowned at them.

Hammond gazed at Harriman's workstation. "So, this is the old system, right?"

"Yes, sir," Harriman confirmed.

"The same system that we used for two years with absolutely no problems whatsoever?"

"Yes, sir."

"Just getting my facts straight, Sergeant." Hammond headed out of the control room, growling ominously, "I've got some phone calls to make."

"I know that tone." Carter hid her grin behind a hand. "Looks like we'll probably get to keep our old system." The idea cheered her immensely.

Of all the people remaining in the control room, only Daniel looked disappointed at that prospect. He sighed heavily, then started for the exit.

"Where are you going, Daniel?" Carter asked.

Daniel gave her a depressed look. "I'm going to try to find Dwayne, of course."

"Dwayne? Why?" O'Neill asked incredulously.

"I want to see if he can salvage any of my report from the NT server. Otherwise, I'm going to have to start from scratch..."

"Didn't you save any backup copies?"

"Backup copies?" Daniel blinked owlishly.

"Daniel, even I know that you're supposed to keep backup copies."

Carter stared at Daniel in exasperation. "Daniel, if you didn't back it up, it's probably history. You'll have to redo it."

"It was a pretty long report, Sam. I'd rather not, especially on the old system. I'd have to type it." He paused, then added hopefully, "You don't suppose I could get that same speech recognition package installed on IRIX, do you?"

"NO!" Carter and O'Neill chorused in perfect, if somewhat strident, unison.

"It was just a thought." He shook his head and left the room, muttering something about Luddites under his breath.

O'Neill immediately picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?" Carter asked.

"Dwayne."

"Dwayne?"

O'Neill gave her a sidelong look. "You don't really want Daniel to con him into doing something we'll all regret, now do you?"

 ***** end *****   


_March, 2000_


End file.
